Popular affront

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Is the record industry awards night snubbing some of
this year's most successful artists simply because theyre
popular? Luke Benedictus reports.

The jeering began as soon as Kylie Minogue walked onstage. It
was 1989 and Minogue's record I Should Be So Lucky had
just won the Australian Record Industry Award for Best Selling
Single.

But a small section of the 1000-strong crowd at Sydney's Darling
Harbour was not impressed. They started to heckle Minogue,
signalling their disdain for her commercial bubblegum pop.

"I'll never forget the yobbos booing Kylie at the ARIAs. I'll
never forget it," says Australian Idol judge, Mark Holden.
"Still, you know what they say - success is the best form of
revenge."

And having sold more than 40 million records worldwide and
picked up a bundle more ARIAs along the way, Minogue has undeniably
had her revenge. Yet 15 years later, tonight's ARIAs at the Sydney
Superdome again threaten to be overshadowed by another row about
the credibility of pop music.

The trouble began when Australian Idol winner Guy
Sebastian failed to secure a nomination for any of the
industry-voted awards. Sebastian was ignored despite the fact that
his debut Angels Brought Me Here had become the
fastest-selling single in ARIA chart history, while his album,
Just as I Am, also had its debut at the top of the charts.
Fellow Idol artists Shannon Noll and Paulini, who both
notched up number one singles and albums, were blanked as well. The
televised talent show's only nomination was in the relatively
obscure category of Best Original Soundtrack/Cast/Show
Recording.

While Sebastian and Noll will perform at the ARIAs tonight, the
only awards for which they will vie are those given for sales
success.

For Idol judge Ian Dickson, this lack of recognition
smacks of elitism. He is boycotting tonight's ARIAs in protest
against what he sees as a snub. "I've witnessed a lot of industry
snobbery hanging out with Guy and Shannon," Dickson wrote in a
letter to a Sydney newspaper. "A feeling from artists and execs
alike that these two don't belong in the hallowed ground that is
the ARIA Top 10."

In fact, the reluctance to acknowledge the Idol stars
isn't quite the bewildering injustice Dickson suggests. Popularity,
after all, never guarantees critical acclaim. There wasn't any
outrage, for example, when Dan Brown's bestselling novel The Da
Vinci Code failed to make the Booker Prize shortlist.

Sympathy for Dickson's case also dwindled when it emerged that
he hadn't even lodged his own ARIA vote, a serious oversight
considering Sebastian missed out on two ARIA nominations -
Breakthrough Artist (single and album) - by just a few votes.

What is more significant, however, is the overwhelming hostility
that other musicians have expressed for Australian
Idol.

Powderfinger frontman Bernard Fanning has dismissed Sebastian
and Noll as glorified karaoke singers, while Missy Higgins, an ARIA
nominee for Best Female Artist, Breakthrough Artist and Pop
Release, also condemned the show. "It's not what music's about,"
she told The Age. "It saddens me it's cheapened like that
- Music doesn't seem to be an art form any more, it's about image
and celebrity status."

These comments are representative of the "industry snobbery"
that Dickson identified, which considers Idol artists to
be cynically manufactured, uncreative and shamelessly over-reliant
on image ("go the 'fro"). But is it fair to single out
Idol for such criticism when these very characteristics
have powered the music industry for years?

The truth is that pop stars have always been manufactured. From
Colonel Tom Parker masterminding Elvis Presley's career to Berry
Gordy controlling the Motown stable, some of the most influential
acts of all time have been groomed by scheming svengali figures.
What's more, many bands with genuine "hall of fame" credentials -
the Sex Pistols, the Beatles - had their original line-ups
carefully reshuffled by managers to maximise their commercial
appeal.

These decisions were often based more on style than musical
talent. Malcolm McLaren was responsible for safety-pinning the
Pistols together and sacking the band's most musical member, Glenn
Matlock. He was replaced with Sid Vicious, who could barely play
the bass but made up for it by being the snarling epitome of punk
rock. "The playing is not the big deal," McLaren said. "That comes
afterwards. It's the attitude that counts."

Similarly, the Beatles dumped Pete Best not because of his
drumming ability but because of his haircut (Best clung to his
teddy-boy quiff while everyone else moved at manager Brian
Epstein's insistence to the mop top).

Indeed, the idea that Australia Idol is suddenly
encouraging a new musical aesthetic of style over substance is
ridiculous. "I don't think that cultural change in music has had
anything to do with Australian Idol," says Rolling
Stone editor Rachel Newman, "That's been happening for a
really long time. Whereas maybe 15 years ago artists could possibly
get away with just playing the live circuit and releasing records,
these days the record-buying public has certain expectations of
artists to be seen and to be doing lots of interviews on
television."

Like it or not, exhaustive levels of multi-media exposure mean
that a band's visual image is now more important than ever. Today's
music fan can channel surf between multiple TV channels that play
video clips around the clock.

"Television has always been a huge medium for breaking new
artists," says Michael Gudinski, founder of Mushroom Records. "Back
in the '70s, the band that put Mushroom Records on the map was
Skyhooks," he says. "Every band at the time was just wearing blue
jeans, but the 'Hooks wore make-up and very wild clothes. They went
on television and exploded because they were something colourful
and very different."

Personally, Gudinski believes the fuss over the Idol
artists' exclusion from the ARIAs is a blatant stunt by Dickson to
drum up further publicity for his show. Gudinski insists that Guy
Sebastian's lack of popularity with ARIA voters is hardly a big
surprise. "Some of the greatest pop acts have been overlooked by
industry snobbery," he says matter of factly. "It's been going on
for years."

Gudinski suggests that anyone familiar with the awards would not
expect Idol artists to win much recognition at the ARIAs.
"Is a Neil Young or a Bob Dylan ever going to come out of
Australian Idol?" he asks. "I can tell you now that they
won't, because real artists with original material that are forging
new boundaries wouldn't even be interested in auditioning."

Then again, there are hardly many new boundaries being forged on
this year's ARIAs short-list either. Jet are expected to sweep the
board tonight, having been nominated for seven awards. While it's
good to see a Melbourne band do well, not even Jet's most ardent
fans could claim the band is breaking fresh ground with its
reheated '70s rock. Wearing a leather jacket and refusing to brush
your hair is hardly a reliable indication of artistic
integrity.

Nevertheless, rock music is still widely regarded as being edgy,
authentic and dangerous, while pop is dismissed as being
manufactured and synthetic. Industry veteran Molly Meldrum insists
this division is nothing new. "I think that sort of elitism has
always been there," he says.

"I had hoped the ARIAs had got over that cringe-factor that pop
artists haven't got the cred, haven't paid their dues and don't
deserve a nomination. I think it's ludicrous."

Meldrum admittedly has a vested interest in the debate due to
his involvement as a judge in the Popstars talent
show.

Nevertheless, he wonders how the Beatles would fare if they were
starting out in the current musical climate. "If it came to today's
situation would their industry peers be dismissive of the Beatles
for just playing pure pop songs?"

A big reason for the ideological split between rock and pop
music boils down to songwriting credits.

While pop artists like David Gray, Alicia Keys and Delta Goodrem
do pen their own tunes, many others rely instead on international
hit makers such as Max Martin (Britney Spears, Christina Aguilera)
and the Stargate production team (Blue, Holly Valance, Mariah
Carey).

"Being a songwriter myself, I totally encourage the people I
work with to write their own material," says Idol judge Mark
Holden.

"If you can do it, then it's definitely the way to go because
you can control your own destiny. But there are people who have
very successful careers without writing their own songs."

Obviously it is infinitely more impressive for a singer to write
their own smash-hit. But does an artist's lack of creative input
really matter to the punter?

Natalie Imbruglia's ARIA-winning single Torn was
written by obscure US band Ednaswap. On her second album, White
Lillies, the singer co-wrote more songs, yet none got close to
Torn's international success.

Similarly, Kylie's first attempt to branch out from the Stock,
Aitken and Waterman pop machine resulted in the disappointing
self-titled album Kylie Minogue. Despite Kylie
collaborating on the songs, the album failed to impress and her
record label dropped her a year later. Her critical resurrection
instead came courtesy of songwriters Cathy Dennis and Rob Davis and
the single Can't Get You Out of My Head. Clearly, the
public judges a song on its quality rather than its origin.

At the same time, no one wants to be reminded of their favourite
pop star's creative deficiencies because it tarnishes the myth.
It's preferable to ignore the prosaic truth that a singer's
impassioned ballad about their tragic lost love was really rattled
off one afternoon by a jobbing songwriter.

The same goes for the pop icon on the magazine cover who had to
be vigorously air-brushed to make them look halfway presentable.
Too much reality can be bad news in pop, where ignorance really is
bliss. Indeed Australian Idol's danger has nothing to do
with its emphasis on image and performance over genuine musical
talent.

The real problem is that by deliberately exposing the music
industry's mechanics, it also risks stripping away its glamour and
mystique. Zooming in on how a nobody becomes a somebody does make
the music business more accessible, but it also threatens to
devalue the very currency in which it trades.